The Non-Existence of Happy Endings
by InksandPapers
Summary: Fairy tales don't always have happy endings—no, they don't really have happy endings. It's the sickly false idea we've been forced to believe all along. It's about time you learn the truth from one Santana Lopez. [ Canon. Quinntana. PezBerryMel friendship. ] *Not a twisted fairy tale story.
1. Prologue

_**DISCLAIMER**__: Anything Glee-related is NOT mine. I only own my imagination._

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

Do you believe in fairy tales?

The once upon a times, and happily ever afters.

As a young adult, or an actual adult, do you?

I do.

There are princes and princesses from lands far, far away. There are old castles with vast fortresses; knights in shining armors with their dashing horses; dragons with their huge claws and sharp teeth; a solitary witch, living out in the forest with a black cat; a war between the forces of good and evil.

I believe in fairy tales, the stories our parents told us, heard from a class, the ones we read from a book, seen from a movie-every fairy tale there is, except for their fairly happy endings.

Yes.

I don't believe they exist.

And so should you.

This is about my thoughts of the nonexistence of happy endings. Well, it sort of includes my life, but keep in mind that this isn't about me. This isn't about my family or friends, the laughters or tears, my accomplishments or failures, my hopes or my regrets.

I would like to point out that a happy ending is a myth, a story that confusedly happy people created at the height of their extreme emotions.

And that's what I'll try to prove.

I'm not really sure where I should begin. Perhaps I could start when I was born, to parents who are both doctors, and are both barely home so my grandmother had to do all the parenting on their behalf. I'm telling you, that was a terribly awesome idea.

I was born and raised in Lima Heights, a place where people practically exchange curses for breakfast. It was a tough place but it trained me well. My _abuela_ taught me to be tougher than whoever or whatever I come across with outside the house. She said I should never underestimate the evils of the world, so I have to be more than evil.

And look how it all turned out.

I became the gorgeous, badass head bitch that I was born to be, and Lima Heights was proud to have me.

High school was nothing I couldn't handle. Sure, the battle for reputation was surprisingly a big deal at McKinley High, but I made it through with no sweat. Well, actually, I did sweat a little. With my looks and my reputation outside McKinley I easily climbed up to the top. But there was that one girl who made things quite miserable for me.

_Lucy Quinn Fabray_—the girl with a pretty face, an angelic voice, heavenly eyes, a quarterback boyfriend, and a flawless character.

In a blink of an eye, I became the second best. I was overshadowed by the fame of the perfect girl that is Quinn.

We were friends, turned mortal enemies, turned best friends, and eventually, frenemies. I figured that's what we're really meant to be. We were two gemstones fighting for one ring. It was as if McKinley couldn't handle us both at the same time but we somehow learned how to co-exist.

That's one reason I am thankful for the arrival of the third wheel of the Unholy Trinity-_Brittany S. Pierce_.

With her by my side, I forgot about Quinn. I was happy to find someone who actually understand how I felt and stuck with me through everything. It felt like I was someone to a person, even without the looks, or the voice, or the popularity.

For a time, she made me complete. I became powerful and at the same time, not because every superman comes with its own kryptonite, right?

Halfway through high school, I figured that I need to settle some issues-my sexuality for instance. I mean, I have always been attracted to girls, but I slept with boys to keep my rank up. Outside, it may appear as though I was confused. But inside my head, I knew exactly what I wanted.

I do.

I was just not brave enough to admit that.

Brittany, who cares not about such matters, wanted to make things official between the two of us and I wasn't ready. I knew my _abuela_ won't approve of it, and her opinion was the only one that matters because as I've said, parents were barely there. I knew that if tell the world that I love a girl, I'll be the target for the next hundred years. The reputation I built my whole life will fall crashing deep down under, and the worst? My family will disown me. Like what they did to my cousin in Seattle.

In short, I couldn't do the only wish of the very person who loved me as how I wanted to be loved.

What can I say?

I suck at feelings big time.

College was not in the very short list of things that scare a Santana Lopez. It was just like high school, only bigger and crazier. There was a longer list of cliques, tougher school works, much arrogant students—all of which were within my grasp.

It was the loneliness that killed me.

Sure, there were new kids to bash, new professors to argue with, new clubs to audition for, new bullies to teach-a whole new world to fit into. But there was nothing like having your best friend; your very own hobbit; your best friend slash enemy slash everything in between; your friends who were more of a family, around you.

That's when you know you're alone—when you have a whole crowd around you, yet you feel so... lonely.

But I can't let loneliness get to me either.

I had to move forward because... That's what everyone does, and I can't be stuck at one chapter of my life forever.

They said if you truly love someone, you have to set them free because if you really are made for each other... you have to beat the hell out of anyone who would get in the way for you two to be together. Is that right?

Whatever.

So, I let Brittany go because I thought that long distance relationship was not for me. It was not working.

There were some good looking girls at University of Louisville, but none of them were close to how attractive Quinn, or I was. I mean, come on. We're diamonds, and no other gemstones can break us-only ourselves.

Wait-I mean, also Britt and even Berry, of course.

Damn, Fabray.

She's the only diamond I'd love to wear all over myself.

Just like Valentines night.

Oh, the things I'll do for one more night.

* * *

_**A/N**__ : __Please note that this is NOT a twisted fairy tale story. But it is a fairy tale, trust me on that. Also, the prologue is the only part written in first person POV so far. I intend to keep it that way._

_Oh, and reviews are loved._


	2. Chapter I

_**DISCLAIMER**__: Anything Glee-related is NOT mine. I only own my imagination._

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**_"Valentine's night:_**

_- phrase used to obtain an instant absolute silence inside the Berry/Hummel/Lopez apartment; a remark that causes recollection of a remarkable night spent with guilty pleasure._

* * *

Nobody brings Valentine's night without the actual need for an instant silence. It meant that someone was about to say something of utmost importance that they needed to stop everyone on whatever they're doing, most likely break their moods, to get their attentions.

That's what Rachel just did, and it worked just fine for a couple of seconds.

"This better be good." Kurt whispered to himself and sighed.

Santana, on the other hand, glared at the smaller brunette sharply. "Absolutely no Broadway or any Barbra singing involve, or I'm out of here."

The smaller brunette squirmed. "Actually..."

"That's it, I'm out." The Latina tapped on the kitchen table and headed for the room.

"No, no wait! Santana, would you listen first, please?" She begged. The Vogue intern simply shook his head.

"Would you put out for me, hobbit?" Santana answered her with a question.

"What?" It got Rachel confused, and it made Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Exactly." The Latina inched her index finger on Rachel. "No." She continued to the door until the self-proclaimed Barbara Streisand heiress grabbed her arm.

"Wait, please, Santana. Whatever it is, it has to be yes. Yes. Would you lend me your ears now?"

Kurt crossed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what just happened. The Latina raised hers and smirked. Rachel was completely unaware of what she just got into.

"In that case, I'm all ears."

"Perfect!" The smaller brunette clapped her hand giddily and walked towards the center of the living room. Santana sat opposite to Kurt and waited for the Barbara heiress to begin.

Rachel cleared her throat and laid her hands on her side, like Jesus, preaching to the crowd in front of Him.

"Ladies, you are looking at the new lead in the latest remake of one of the greatest Broadway musical of all time, _Columbus_."

* * *

"So, what character are you playing again? You never told me you auditioned for anything." Kurt asked the smaller brunette. He crossed his arms and frowned.

"I'll be playing the role of Alessandra, and Kurt, I sincerely apologize for not telling you earlier because I never really had to audition for it." She inhaled deeply before she continued. "The role was made for me."

"There is a character named Alessandra in Columbus?" The Vogue intern continued questioning his friend.

"Wait, you did not audition, so how did you get in? You sleep with producers now? Wow, I'm proud." It was Santana who had her back firmly pressed against the couch.

"What? No! One of my classmates had the role, but gotten into an unfortunate accident so she, after admitting that she did not deserved the role anyway, referred me. And yes, Kurt, there is an Alessandra there. She is Christopher's brother's best friend's pretend fiancée."

The Latina crossed her arms as well and eyed Rachel.

"Now, it does sound like something made up." She said.

Skeptic as the two appeared, Rachel kept her patience. She really thought of the opportunity as her chance to be known.

"I'd totally ignore the last part, Santana. Come on guys, this could be my break. I mean, producers from all over the country will be there."

Rachel's two roommates looked at each other. The taller brunette shrugged and stood up.

"As long as you'll keep your word for me, I'll be there." Santana winked. She was referring to her earlier remark at the smaller blonde. Rachel turned to Kurt, who was shrugging.

"I'm still mad at you, you know." Kurt spat at her.

The smaller brunette sighed. "I'm really sorry, Kurt. I'll make it up to you next time, okay? But please... It's okay if you don't want to believe me. I only have one wish from the two of you." When neither of the two said anything, Rachel continued.

"Please be there."

* * *

After the surprisingly successful Columbus, Satana, Rachel, Kurt and Adam went to their favorite hang out spot, Emerald City New York. Rachel met a couple of producers who promised to give her a call sometime in the future. And yes, that was worth celebrating.

"Wait, seriously? Like, seriously,seriously?" Rachel asked the taller brunette as she sipped on her drink.

"Stop it, hobbit. There were very few claps after the show. That couldn't have deafened your ears, you know." The Latina rolled her eyes as she replied to the smaller brunette.

It was half past eleven but all four of them were awakened by the Latina's surprise.

"How is that even possible? I mean, you bumped into a Harvard graduate, flirted, snubbed MY act, and then got a Harvard scholarship?"

During the musical, Santana was seated two seats away from Kurt and Adam. Beside her was a lady with red hair, probably on her early thirties, who recently graduated from Harvard and doing post-graduate studies. The lady was quite attractive, and to save herself from listening to the musical she was forced to watch, Santana turned to the lady.

They talked, flirted, and then talked again until they oddly arrived to Santana's genealogy. The lady turned out to be, well, a genealogist. She was studying the long _almost—_lost lineage of Santana's great-great-great-grandfather.

"I can't believe that. There's definitely sex involved." Kurt blurted. He was quite drunk and Adam was having a hard time keeping the booze off his hands.

"Wow, my ego is hurt, Kurt. Sex is not necessary for one Santana Lopez to get what she wants." The Latina proudly said. "...and we just met! She's not even my type, come on, guys."

The Vogue intern laughed at the Latina. "Really, Santana? It matters now how long you know each other? That news."

"Well, it's not my fault they keep coming to me, unlike some..."

And that was Adam's cue. He took Kurt to the dance floor instead. The two ladies were left at the table. It was Rachel who broke the silence, assuming that there was some.

"No matter what, I'm happy for you—even if you paid no attention to my scenes." She eyed the brunette. She offered her a hug while chuckling.

Santana watched the smaller brunette. Truth be told, that two-second contact aroused her—she was very horny. Well, it wasn't just that though. It was the five shots of vodka, and still counting; the short-lived flirting earlier at the theatre; the couple of blondes from the far end of the bar, undressing her with their eyes; and her month long unintentional sexual abstinence.

Ever since that valentine's night with a certain blonde, Santana could not get the same satisfaction out of sex anymore. She tried one night stands for the whole week after that night, but it didn't work. She was left faking orgasm just to be nice with whichever girl she was with.

It was torture.

"Okay. Since this whole thing won't be possible without one persistent Rachel Berry, how about I treat you out tomorrow, dinner perhaps?"

Her eyes glowed, her charm attracting the smaller brunette. She purposely let her hand, the one holding her glass of vodka, touched Rachel's. It was magnetizing. She leaned closer, giving the other girl a clear view of her cleavage.

"Well..." Rachel bit her lip as her eyes turned away from the beauty that was in front of her, and back.

She could not believe she's seducing Rachel Berry. Was she that desperate?

"Come on, just you and me."

Her efforts were working because the smaller brunette started to blush. It seemed as though her face was on fire. The booze may have a little to do with it, but Santana could be sure it was mostly because of her.

She was winning.

One wink and she'll be under her spell.

Just one wink and...

"Am I interrupting something?"

A familiar heavenly voice brought her back to her senses. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Santana froze. Hearing such voice gave her not only the butterflies, but the whole garden in her stomach.

No one—and I mean no one—had the same effect on her. Her body was about to erupt; a volcano about to dispense icebergs. It was crazy, beautifully crazy.

"N-no, absolutely—"

It was the smaller brunette who answered. She hid her face for a moment, probably to hide her crimson cheeks before she turned back to the blonde.

"Quinn! You made it!" She welcomed her with a tight embrace.

Quinn, with one eyebrow still raised, returned the hug.

"Of course I did." That time, she turned to the silent Latina who was bitterly sipping on her vodka.

"H-how's the trip?" Rachel blurted as she looked for words to say. She was still recovering from the Latina's spell.

Afraid that Quinn might notice her fidgeting, Rachel cut her once more. She needed an escape.

"It was—"

"You know what, why don't I get you a drink? What do you want, Quinn?"

The blonde could smell something was up.

"A martini should do it."

She saw the Latina rolled her eyes. Something was definitely up. Before the Jew walked off, Quinn followed up.

"Uh, make that two."

* * *

Like an angel sent from above, Quinn was suddenly right there beside her—her skin were a few inches away from hers. She could basically smell the blonde's scent, feel her warmth, and hear her heartbeat.

Well, maybe not the last one.

But the closeness was too much for one extremely frustrated Satana Lopez to take. The blonde's arrival maddened the Latina because a) she craved for Quinn, b) she was very horny, c) her shot at having her mack back on was interrupted, d) by no other than Quinn, e) who obviously had a distasteful excuse for being late.

"You're way too early for the next play, Quinn."

Santana spat as the blonde sat down beside her. Quinn slightly shook her head and smirked.

_Was she really mad that I was late?_ _Or because I interrupted their sweet moment. _

_Wow, that's disgusting._

"I miss you, too, Lopez."

The brunette eyed her sharply. She was too horny to make that conversation. Not with the gorgeous, hot blonde right by her side.

_She didn't really mean that, did she?_

_Perhaps not._

Maybe she was late because she had a nice send-off make outs with her boyfriend.

Maybe she was just messing with Santana.

Maybe.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but when I arrived, you were..."

It was honestly a tough question for her, but she had to voice her thoughts out. That's what made her Quinn, right?

"...you were hitting on Rachel, right?" She asked as indifferent as possible.

The Latina smiled, which she wanted to be a sign of sarcasm.

"Really, Fabray, aren't you just..."

_Jealous?_

Quinn thought otherwise. She saw right through her. She knew she was right.

"You were totally hitting on her!" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. I never thought I'd live to see this day, Lopez."

The blonde turned away. She wondered if that was that was the first time it happened.

Santana and Rachel; under one roof; with rooms right next to each other; considering the recent events.

Maybe not.

_Oh, god._

"You can say whatever you want to say, Fabray, but you can't deny she'd grown hot."

And that confirmed it to the blonde.

Santana found a fitting come back. It was her time to smirk. She pretended to stare at where the smaller brunette was, and checked her out.

_Be jealous, princess._

As the Latina moved, Quinn got a better view of the former's beautiful mounds on her chest. It was distracting, but she had to focus. She can't lose to Santana, not after what she made her feel.

"What, your girls bore you now that you have to try Rachel?"

The blonde wanted to stop talking and just push the brunette against the wall. But she was hurt. It was the typical Santana and she had to admit, she caught her gay virus. It was intoxicating, and she had to get away from it before it's too late.

It was a must.

"Awww... You're cute when you're jealous, Quinnie."

The blonde wanted to wipe the smirk off Santana's face. She was not jealous. They had sex, and that was it. No strings attached. She shouldn't be jealous.

She couldn't be.

"Why would I be? I'm not the one who had to beg to get laid."

_Okay, that's a wrong move. Damn it, Quinn!_

"Really?" The Latina saw her flinched. She knew the blonde was wrong. "Let's make this easier for you, Quinn. Just tell me you want me and I'm yours."

Santana couldn't help but smile. The blonde was a hard nut to crack but she knew she had the upper hand.

_Just say it, please?_

Quinn thought it was too much. She wanted Santana so bad that she was so excited to be there. Her whole body screamed her name so loud that she anticipated Rachel's plays and all other invites just to see the Latina.

A taste of the valentine's night-that's what she longed and craved for. Damn she'd fly to New York every night just to feel it over and over.

But not like that. She didn't want to be just another girl on those lovely arms. After what she'd been through, she knew she deserved better than that.

Did she really want something more with one Santana Lopez?

Oh, it was a trouble in the making.

"You know what, Santana, get a life."

_Ouch._

Did she just say that? Had the brunette gone too far?

"Wow, that's deep, Fabray. Your professor sure taught you well."

It was a bitch slap worthy moment.

That's how things were for the two ex-Cheerios. It always had to end up in a fight. The moon could have been full, or maybe a meteorite fell down that night at the time of the failed wedding because that's one of the rare moments when they weren't fighting.

It was rare because they had something that night that wasn't in their vocabulary towards each other—_love_.

The next scene would had been brutal if it weren't for the arrival of their three friends. Rachel was holding two glasses of Martinis. Adam, who was practically carrying Kurt by the shoulder, was not far behind.

"I'm sorry to cut the party short, but we need to go home. Kurt's... well, in some state of, we don't probably want to know, and I'm pretty dizzy too." Rachel said as she placed the glasses down the table.

The Vogue intern looked terrible. His face was an example of what a true drunk was.

"I'll go with you. I'm tired." The blonde told Rachel.

There was something in the way smaller brunette looked at Quinn. Her eyes were trying to tell her something. It was somewhat in between worried and sad, and a little bit disappointed.

"I'll stay." Santana said. "...and don't worry about these, Berry. I'll take care of them." She drank the first glass of martini, straight, and took the other glass as she stood. She made sure her eyes didn't wander off to the blonde's.

She walked away with an aching heart. For a month, she fantasized about the blonde. She was celibate. And when the opportunity came, she was faced with nothing but disappointment and sexual frustrations.

It wasn't fair.

A typical day for Santana.

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_**A/N** : Reviews are loved. _


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